


the crystal goblet and, somehow, the wine

by sagesiren



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Then and Now, if you don't look too closely at the timelines, what is probably inaccurate depictions of radios
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:06:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21999451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sagesiren/pseuds/sagesiren
Summary: “Something’s up with the weather,” Steve said, coming out of the small bathroom a few minutes later, after Peggy huffed with frustration at the static that greeted her on every channel. He turned to the window above the kitchen sink and pulled the curtain back to peak out. “Pressure’s changing, and it looks like snow.”
Relationships: Peggy Carter/Steve Rogers
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	the crystal goblet and, somehow, the wine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rjwritergirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rjwritergirl/gifts).



> Happy holidays to my Steggy Secret Santa giftee, rjwritergirl!
> 
> The title is from the poem 'Litany' by Billy Collins, which I think portrays the equal amount of stubbornness, humor, awe, and love that Peggy and Steve feel for each other. Many thanks to my beta smackiemackie :)

**_Then_ **

The plan was to check for supplies, make use of the facilities if they were in working condition, and get out as soon as possible. The cottage was a stop on the way to the rendez-vous point a few kilometers south east of the Hydra base they’d located. “It’s clear,” Steve said as they moved quietly up the path, the crunch of dead leaves and brush under their feet blending into the sounds of the surrounding woods. 

Peggy started to reach for a pin to get the door unlocked, but Steve had already busted his shoulder through the door before her hand could reach her pocket. “We ought to be quick,” she said, following him inside and pulling her pack from her shoulder. The long-shadowed glow of twilight threw little light into the main living space, casting a glow onto the sheet covered sofa and fireplace of the main living room. There was a small kitchen with enough cabinets to make her stomach rumble hopefully, and a bed pushed against the wall that looked comfortable enough to make the ache in her feet more pronounced. 

“In and out in a half hour or less,” Steve said with a nod, though she could tell he was as glad as she was to be out of the cold. The wind was sharp to the point of cutting through her layers, and super soldier or not, he seemed to feel it too.

“Get all the curtains and check the kitchen?” she asked, shutting the door behind them and putting her lantern on the end table next to the sofa. The cottage was small enough that it would light up the entire room once lit.

He nodded again, putting his pack on the counter before following her orders. Peggy took a guess at which of the two doors led to a closet and which to the bathroom, and shut herself in with the hazy light filtering in from a small, high window. There wasn’t any running water, but she’d seen a well outside that was in working condition, and was willing to risk a handful of the drinking water for the luxury of washing her face. 

By the time she was back in the main room of the cottage, Steve had closed the curtains, and had cans lined up on the counter. “It seems like whoever lived here left in a hurry,” he said, frowning over at her. “Good news for us in terms of food, but I’d say that means word of the Hydra base is getting around.”

Peggy came over to inspect the haul. “Not a bad supply. Let’s try and make contact while we have cover. I’ll give our updated ETA.”

Steve pulled out his radio and handed it over. “I might wash up, too,” he said, tilting his head toward the water closet with a little laugh. “You look more comfortable than I feel.”

“You don’t look nearly as gross as I felt,” Peggy said, looking him over. When she met his eyes his cheeks were a little pink.

“Maybe that’s a benefit of the serum. Less of a need for showers than the average guy,” he joked.

“I didn’t say you smell any better than me,” Peggy teased, sitting at the table, knowing they both had the odor of walking for a few days straight, not to mention that it had been more than a month since she’d taken anything resembling a shower. 

“You’re not the one with the super senses,” he joked right back.

She gave him a two fingered salute, and the sound of his laughter billowed out from the bathroom as he pulled the door shut. While he was in there, Peggy focused on the radio, frowning when all she could find was static.

“Something’s up with the weather,” Steve said, coming out of the small bathroom a few minutes later, after Peggy huffed with frustration at the static that greeted her on every channel. He turned to the window above the kitchen sink and pulled the curtain back to peak out. “Pressure’s changing, and it looks like snow.”

Peggy frowned, fixing her braid to get the stray hairs out of her face and to give her hands something to do other than smashing the radio. She’d left it on, in case anyone was able to get a message through to them, though she doubted it would be possible, which nearly had her skin crawling with helplessness; taking out the base and securing the high powered weapons for the allies would give the French resistance the push it needed, and failure likely meant more towns wiped off the map. It was an operation she herself had planned meticulously on information at least two spies had died for, and if it were all to come apart because of a faulty radio signal, she might just lose it. 

“Lovely. Snow is just what we need right now,” she muttered.

“Yeah,” Steve said, glancing back at her with a wry smile. “It’s a Christmas miracle.”

Her frown deepened, so far off from thinking about the date. “Christmas?” 

“You know,” he said, securing the curtain, “Jesus being born in a manger? No room at the inn? You Protestants do celebrate that, right?”

“You can piss right off with that,” Peggy said, and Steve responded with a shit-eating grin. “I didn’t realize it was already the twenty-fifth.”

“Well, it’s only the twenty-fourth. But I think it still counts.” 

She nodded distractedly, somehow annoyed at it for being a bloody holiday when there would be blood on her hands if she couldn’t pull this off. 

“Hey,” Steve said softly, pulling the chair around the table to next to hers. The cold was starting to seep through the wooden walls of the cottage, and when Steve put his hand on her shoulder she leaned into it. “You can’t blame yourself for this.”

“I can,” Peggy said petulantly, and rubbed at her face. It was easy to joke, but the weight of their reality was inescapable, incessant like a ticking she could feel in her bones, even when she allowed herself to enjoy the time with Steve. He pulled her gently, and she turned, pressing her face to his shoulder.

“I know,” he said softly, his voice as heavy as she felt. She remembered all over again the pressure he felt, the way she only saw him relax when he was away from the team he was leading, away from being the icon an entire country was finding bravery and hope from.

At least if people died from her mistake, no one would recognize her name. 

Peggy took a shuddering breath and stilled herself.  _ Keep calm and carry on _ , she thought dryly, in Falsworth’s voice, and straightened in her chair. “I think I’m more tired than I realized.”

“We’ve been doing a lot,” Steve agreed, and squared his shoulders as if preparing for an argument. “We should stay here for a night.”

“We can’t,” Peggy said with a sigh. “We have our location—”

“And no way to contact the team,” he said, shaking his head. “There won’t be an attack until we’re coordinated from all sides. We can either walk another few miles in the snow and then make camp in a storm and risk getting buried, or we stay somewhere with four walls, a locked door, and soft surfaces to sleep on.”

“I think you busted the lock,” she pointed out, glancing toward the door. “But you have a point.” 

“I know I do,” he said, getting up. She watched him grab a few cans of food and come back over. They ate in relative silence, both too hungry and focused on eating something that wasn’t an MRE.

“I can hear the snow,” Steve said once he’d finished his second can of green beans, leaning back in his chair as if that had really filled him up. She knew it would take far more to satisfy him, but allowed him to pretend by not calling him out. The old chair creaked under his weight and he gave her a soft smile when she looked at him curiously. “This is the first time I’ve seen snow since the serum.”

“That must be odd,” she said, her voice as soft as his expression. “I never realized that was possible.”

“Neither did I.”

“Were there any other things you weren’t expecting with the serum?” Peggy asked, unable to tear her eyes away from his face, warm from the light of the lantern, and glowing in the new discovery.

Steve chuckled, rubbing his neck. “A few. Things feel different, you know? It’s a whole new body. I’m still trying to get used to combing my hair without getting winded. Plus, I don’t think I realized what it’d be like living in such close quarters with the team with hearing like this.” 

Peggy could feel her cheeks heat, and she raised her eyebrows. “Does that mean you make it a habit to listen in to the commandos?”

“No,” Steve said quickly, gathering the cans and moving to bring them to the bin. “I don’t listen intentionally. Sometimes I just hear things.” He made a face at himself. “We should probably turn in.”

“It sounds like you want a way out of this conversation,” Peggy said with a laugh, though she also wasn’t too eager to know what he’d heard. She let him clean up from their dinner and headed to the couch. “You take the bed. I doubt you’ll fit here.”

“You should take the bed,” Steve said, frowning over at her. “The travel affects you more than it does me.”

“That doesn’t mean you’ll fit more comfortably on the couch.”

“It means that you deserve to be comfortable on the bed.” He put his pack next to her on the couch as a gust of wind came through a crack in the wall, blowing in a flurry of snow with it. Peggy couldn’t help but shiver, and Steve’s Captain voice came out. “Stay in the bed with me. You’ll be warmer, and we’ll both be comfortable.”

“Yes, Sir,” Peggy said with a roll of her eyes. “Who’s in charge here?”

“Me, when you’re being stubborn.” Steve gave her a pleading look. “Come on. I’ll sleep easier with you at my back.”

It was tempting, and she was tired enough that his logic was more sound than her pride. “Alright,” she said hesitantly, pulling off the dust sheet before climbing onto the bed and setting her pack down by the foot of the bed. She mentally apologized to whoever owned the bed for ruining the sheets with the mud from her boots, but it didn’t make sense to take off her shoes when they provided an extra layer and a quick escape. 

He turned the lantern off and climbed in next to her but above the blankets. They lay together in silence for a moment, Peggy thinking about the tension she felt in the air and wondering what he was thinking. If the stiffness of his posture next to her or the way he was holding himself on the edge of the bed was any indication, he clearly wasn’t comfortable.

“I can sleep on the couch if you don’t have enough space,” she said after a moment, adjusting the volume of her voice for the darkness. 

“I have enough space,” he said quickly.

“So there’s another problem?”

“I wouldn’t call it a problem.” He shifted to his side so he was facing her. “Would you believe it if I said this was the first time I was sharing a bed with a woman?”

His face was pale in the slivers of pink light coming in between the curtains, and Peggy chuckled. “Is it everything you’ve dreamed it would be?”

“Everything and more.” Steve hesitated, and she could nearly hear the gears turn in his head. “Can’t say I haven’t thought about it with you.”

For a moment she wasn’t sure if that was the right move on his part. What they had - whatever it was between them - seemed to exist in such a delicate balance of stolen looks and nearly accidental touches. Putting it to words meant a risk, meant acknowledging this  _ thing _ . It meant starting something that might eventually have to end. 

And yet, after a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. “Oh?” Peggy said, moving onto her side. Her smile widened as she felt the warm breath of Steve’s relieved sigh. “What exactly have you thought about?”

His eyes moved to her lips. “A lot of things. Time alone with you. A real bed. A meal that’s not MREs, but I think next time I’ll need to specify a warm meal in my fantasy.”

“You take me out on dates first in this fantasy? How gallant of you,” Peggy said with a little laugh. “Now I feel crude for the things I usually picture.”

He moved a little closer at the same time that she did. “Yeah? Like what?” 

“Time alone with you. A real bed.” She reached her hand up to brush her hand through his hair. “Doing this. And other things.”

Steve leaned his head toward her, but pulled back. “Can I—”

“Yes,” Peggy breathed, tugging his head forward with a gentle hand. 

Though she would never admit it, Peggy was sappy enough to have imagined spending Christmas Eve with him before this. It would involve a turkey dinner at her parents’ house outside of London, opening one present each in front of the fireplace, and some strategically placed mistletoe in her childhood bedroom once her parents had gone to bed. The kissing would be languid, soft, easy and practiced.

This was nothing like that. It was eager, overdue. Hurried. Dirty in more than one way. 

Peggy pulled away when she needed to breathe, Steve’s arm wrapped around her. She had no idea when that had happened. “Sorry,” Steve murmured, and she shook her head. 

“Nothing to be sorry for,” she breathed, sliding her hand to the side of his neck. “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

“Me too,” he said, a soft laugh falling from his lips. “God, I’m glad you listened to me about camping here for the night.”

Peggy laughed, pressing against him. “So am I.” She pressed a kiss to his stubble covered jaw, and his hand tightened on her hip. The humor of the moment was quickly gone as he caught her mouth with his again, both more focused on the feel of each other’s lips. 

The radio jumped to life, startling them both. Steve had a hand on his shield before she’d even thought to reach for her gun. “Team Four to Team One. We’re in position, over.”

Steve made a soft sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, pulling his hips back away from hers. “Merry Christmas to us,” he said, as Peggy moved around him, leaving the bed. She found her lantern in the dim light and turned it on. Steve was sitting by then, the sheets strategically over his lap.

“Happy Christmas indeed,” she said, enjoying that he looked the least put together - and the most snogged - she’d ever seen him. It was a very good look on him. “Team One to Team Four. A kilometer from position. Found temporary cover. Leaving soon, over.”

The radio crackled in response and she looked at him with a sad smile. “To be continued?”

“Soon,” Steve said, finally standing. “Hopefully.”

“What could go wrong?” Peggy teased, getting up to put her things together. The moment was nice while it lasted, she thought.

  
  
  


* * *

**_Now_ **

“It’s crooked,” Peggy said, adamant. She was sitting on the couch, her hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa. There was a peppermint melting in the bottom, and she pulled her legs under her after giving it another stir.

“It’s not,” Steve said with a huff. He was on a step-stool securing the star - silver with a red and blue outline to honor the shield, an early present from Peggy - on top of their tree. He came down and looked up at it, his hands on his hips. “It looks good from here.”

“Your head must be crooked.” Peggy frowned as Steve’s cat jumped onto her lap and started kneading her thighs. 

“I think it’s yours that’s crooked,” Steve argued, lifting his mug from the mantle above the fireplace. He’d built up a roaring fire, and it crackled pleasantly as the damned cat started purring in her lap. Steve was the one who’d brought it home, and yet it had somehow adopted her.

She sipped her cocoa and watched him. His hair was longer, his jaw obscured by a beard they’d both agreed would help keep his identity hidden from those who didn’t already know he was back. He looked so much older than he ever did before, and yet beneath it all he was still the same man she’d known and loved for years. At her lack of response he turned to her with a raised eyebrow, used to their volley of banter. 

“Did you ever visit me on the holidays?” she asked.

If the question about the future - or rather, her once future and his current past - caught him off guard, he didn’t show it. “I’d thought about it, but I thought you’d rather spend it with your family,” Steve admitted, joining her on the couch. He rested his mug between his knees, put one arm around her shoulders, and scratched behind the cat’s ears with the other hand. They still hadn’t been able to decide on a name, and Peggy had a feeling the mangy thing would be called “Kitty” for the rest of its time mooching off of them. 

She rested her head on his shoulder. “It’s odd that this is only our second Christmas Eve spent together,” she mused, thinking about all of the time they’d mourned each other, all of the time they’d spent alone. 

The idea that eventually the days spent together would outnumber the days without him was something that thrilled her still, even after the half year that he’d been back in her life.

“This one is much better than the first,” Steve said confidently, pressing a soft kiss to her hair. “There’s no war on. Nothing to interrupt us”

“I don’t know, darling. By this time on that night we were already in bed together. You’d kissed me significantly more, too,” Peggy teased. 

“Oh?” Steve asked with a laugh, plucking her mug out of her hand, moving them both to the coffee table as he stood. “I think we could change that.”

“Do you?” she asked, sitting up and gently pushing the cat to the floor. It had the gall to mew at her, like she wasn’t providing it with both food and a warm home. 

He held a hand out to her, and helped her up easily when she took it. “I am very confident about it, actually.” Steve smiled at her, tucking a piece of hair back behind her ear. “Merry Christmas, Peggy.”

Peggy was about to respond, but was tugged into a kiss that had her toes curling with promise. Even the cat rubbing against her shins wasn't bothering her as much as it might have; there was snow outside, a fire to keep them warm, no threat to deal with, and Steve’s arms around her once again. Happy Christmas, indeed.


End file.
